Far from the self-styled mysticism and the lizard king was James Douglas Morrison, a man trying to find himself amidst the chaos of the early '70s: blood on the streets, planes falling from the sky and Vietnam in full swing.

It's 1975 and these boys from New Zealand are wearing make-up, and dancing oddly, and you don't know who they are, but you love them. Or maybe it's 1993 and they're performing live just for you and the tent is about to blow away. Or maybe it's 2005 and it